


Odds and Ends

by Dolimir



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-22
Updated: 2011-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 11,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolimir/pseuds/Dolimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a collection of Supernatural odds and ends I've written over the past few years that don't really fit anywhere else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. By The Time

By the time he was six, Dean Winchester could change a baby’s diaper just as well and just as fast as any mother he knew. He could also perfectly prepare baby formula, so it wasn’t too hot or too cold for sensitive stomachs.

By the time he was seven, Dean could childproof a living area in less than ten minutes, whether it be a trailer or a hotel room. He also had a repertoire of ten tricks guaranteed to make a cranky baby laugh or settle down.

By the time he was eight, Dean had mastered the art of dressing wiggly toddlers and could speak nearly two-dozen words in Latin.

By the time Dean was nine, he had shoplifting down to a fine science. He could also make his own lunch for school and could prepare simple dinners. He also witnessed his brother almost die for the first time and swore to himself that he would die first before he ever let that happen again.

By the time he was ten, Dean could cry on cue, shoot several different types of firearms and tell the best bedtime stories west of the Mississippi. He also could put his father to bed when he came home too drunk to see straight.

By the time Dean was eleven, he knew how to create a ring of safety using nothing but salt, could hit the bull’s-eye of a target with a hunting knife at twenty feet four out of ten times and could replicate his father’s signature well enough to allow Sammy to go on field trips.

By the time he was twelve, he could clean every weapon his father owned without losing any pieces, could hit the bull’s-eye eighty percent of the time at forty feet, and knew the coolest toys to get for pouty eight year olds.

By the time he was thirteen, Dean had killed his first vampire, kissed his first girl, won his first pool game and made sure that Sammy had his homework done every night before the television was turned on.

By the time Dean was fourteen, he knew how to use every search engine on the internet, had introduced Sammy to the wonder of books and killed his first poltergeist.

By the time he was fifteen, Dean drove better than most adults he knew, had cut himself shaving with a straight razor, had been suspended from school for fighting and saved his father’s life for the first time.

By the time Dean was sixteen, he had had sex for the first time, had been possessed for the first time, and had convinced Sammy that the legal drinking age in California was sixteen.

By the time he was seventeen, he had completed his first mission alone, had gotten drunk for the first time and outran a highway patrolman.

By the time Dean was eighteen, he understood his father’s obsession, but couldn’t understand why his father was so blasé about Sammy’s well being. It was then that he truly understood that he couldn’t forge his own life while Sammy was at home.

By the time Dean was nineteen, he had perfected the credit card scam and could impersonate any law enforcement official better than the actors on television. He also came to understand that Sammy needed to learn how to take care of himself if he was going to survive and forced him to start training with him.

By the time he was twenty, Dean realized that Sammy wasn’t going to follow them into the hunting life. He could see the signs of discontent within his brother and tried to prepare his father for the inevitability of things to come. He wasn’t too surprised when his father refused to understand what he was trying to say.

By the time Dean was twenty-one, he understood there was no escaping his life. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to, not if he could prevent another child from growing up motherless like he and Sammy had. While his father was away, he bought his brother study guides and even drove Sammy to his ACT and SAT tests.

By the time he was twenty-two, Dean was convinced that his heart would never recover from the blowout between his father and brother. He cringed as his father yelled at Sammy that if he left that he should never come back. But he felt his chest shred when his brother, angry because Dean hadn’t stood up for him, demanded that Dean leave him alone.

By the time he was twenty-three, Dean had met a woman he thought he could spend the rest of his life with. He broke the Winchester cardinal rule and told her what he did for a living. Later that evening, he left the remains of his heart off the side of the highway. It was a useless organ anyway.

By the time Dean was twenty-four, his father had gone missing, his brother’s girlfriend had died a horrible death on the ceiling of their bedroom exactly like their mother had, and he was once again on the road with his brother who seemed more like a stranger than a relative.

As he drove down the dark endless highway he wondered what twenty-five had in store for him.


	2. Saving People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever have a character that didn't belong to you come whack you upside the head? That's what happened after I read Geminigrl11's story, _Everyday Heroes_ (http://geminigrl11.livejournal.com/9490.html).
> 
> This story might make more sense if you read hers first.

Stepping from the office building and into the sunshine, Annie rolled her head back onto her shoulders and squeezed her eyes tight, trying to hold back the tears.

Cancer free.

Remission.

What glorious words.

A second chance, when she was sure she had totally screwed up the first one. A giggle escaped her, quickly followed by a sob, and finally the tears came. She brought both hands up to cover her face as she wept, tears of joy, of pain, of release.

“Honey, are you okay?” An elderly woman was standing next to her, concern shining from her clear blue eyes.

Annie nodded. “Yes, thank you. Actually, I’m more okay than I’ve ever been.”

A withered hand gently patted her arm. “Been there. Done that. You take care of yourself.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Walking to her car, Annie thought about her life. All her life she had done the right thing, eaten the right foods. She had never smoked, except for those two cigarettes in college, drank a fru-fru drink once or twice a year and had never done illegal drugs. She exercised, semi-regularly. Had been kind to others. Had laughed a lot. And still she had been struck down with cancer. If God had been trying to teach her something, she wasn’t sure what it was.

In anticipation of her impending death, she had gotten rid of all the things that weighed her down: knickknacks she had collected for God knows why, papers that had long lost their meaning, items she had gathered over the years simply because she was too lazy to find the appropriate charities to give them to or simply throw away.

Her job had been her salvation, a way to lose herself when her situation was getting to be too much, not to mention the killer health insurance.

And yet she felt…jittery for lack of a better word. She felt the need to sing at the top of her lungs or go down to the town square and play in the fountain or climb the water tower and simply let the wind blow through her hair. Her hair. Short, but gloriously curly, something which it hadn’t been before.

She wanted to do something that would scandalize everyone she knew, simply because she could. Her chest heaved with laughter.

The cancer was in remission, not her life.

Opening her car door, she slid behind the wheel and leaned her head against the backrest. A tentative smile grew over her face. She pulled out her cell phone and scrolled through the names before she pushed one toward the bottom of her list.

“Hello. It’s Annie. I’m in remission.”

*-*-*-*-*-*

The doorbell rang and Annie pushed a stray lock of hair back from her eyes as she looked up from the bathtub she was scrubbing. She pushed herself to her feet and headed to the front door, but not before it sounded like someone kicked it with their feet.

Frowning, she opened it, only to find herself face-to-face with an armful of daisies, a literal armful of daisies.

Annie’s eyes widened a millisecond before she found the flowers foisted into her arms. She looked up confused, until she spotted the face of Dean Winchester.

“You let it grow back.”

Her first instinct was to touch her new hair, but she couldn’t, not with the flowers in her arms.

“I like it. It makes your face…softer.”

Annie blushed furiously, but finally remembered her manners. “Would you like to come in?”

His face brightened with a smile. “Don’t mind if I do.”

*-*-*-*-*-*

In all of Annie’s forty-seven years, she never remembered laughing as much as she did that day. Dean was a mixture of charm, suaveness and twelve-year-old boy.

They walked around the neighborhood, simply talking, stopping by the park and watching the ducks swim around the tiny pond. She hadn’t meant to tell him everything, but he was a good listener and had such a unique perspective on life that she couldn’t help herself. In turn, he told her about his brother and how their job kept them on the road all the time, and even though things were occasionally dangerous that he wouldn’t change his life for anything.

She envied him that.

After she talked about her urge to do something crazy, he made her take them to the town square where they both played in the fountain for nearly twenty minutes, much to the consternation of several church ladies. Dean’s laugh was so infectious she couldn’t help but join in.

When they reached the bottom of the water tower, she started to get nervous. Heights had never been her thing.

But Dean crowded her against the ladder, cutting off all avenues of escape. “You’ve already escaped death once, why fear it now.”

His logic made no sense, yet there was something in his eye that made her want to be brave. She nodded, turned and started to climb. She had only climbed two rungs when she felt Dean start up behind her, his arms holding the rungs just beside her waist, making her feel unaccountably safe.

Together, they climbed.

*-*-*-*-*-*

“You can see everything up here,” Annie said with awe.

Dean nodded as he took in the vista below him. “Nice town.”

“It is. They are. People are nice. Real nice. They look after each other.”

“Sounds…”

“Cloying?”

His head jerked back slightly in surprise as he looked at her, causing her to laugh.

“You don’t strike me as a stay in one place kind of guy, Dean.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Maybe just to me.” Annie took a deep breath and released it slowly, smiling as the cool air filled her lungs. “Are you an angel, Dean?”

She expected him to laugh, but instead his eyebrows crinkled just a little. “No. I’m just a man.”

“A man who goes around the country saving people.”

He frowned just a bit. “Why would you say that?”

She leaned toward him and ran her fingers down the side of his cheek, allowing herself a moment to lose herself in the greenness of his eyes. “You saved me.”

“I didn’t--”

“But you did. I had just had a round of radiation therapy and decided I couldn’t fight anymore. I was sick, so sick, and I just wanted it to end. To just not be in pain anymore, you know? And then you showed up in my doorway, all smiles and innuendo and suddenly it didn’t hurt so much.” Her heart felt like it was about to burst when he leaned ever so slightly into her palm. “Your visit meant so much to me. Even if I had--”

She gulped hard. “It meant everything to me, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get the opportunity to tell you that. So while it will never be enough, please accept my thanks, Dean Winchester. Thank you for reminding me that life is a beautiful thing.”

So many emotions passed over his face, almost too fast to categorize, but in the end, he simply nodded. “You’re welcome.”

Annie took a step back and wiped the tears that were gathering in the corner of her eyes. “So how are we going to get down?”

Dean leaned toward the edge and paled ever so slightly. “I have no idea.”

*-*-*-*-*-*

When they reached her front door, Annie started to pull the keys from her pocket, but Dean turned her and leaned her against the door.

“Dean, wha--”

But warm lips covered hers, cutting off her inquiry. Strong arms wrapped around her and firm but gentle hands played in her hair. With a soft moan, she gave in to her desire and wrapped her arms around him, allowing him to control the kiss.

Minutes later, hell it could have been an hour later as far as she knew, he stepped back ever so slightly, regret in his eyes. She smiled at him as she ran her hands down the side of his face and simply held them against his cheeks. He leaned to his right, into her hand and for a minute neither of them spoke.

“I’m not the one,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“I know.” It hurt her to admit that truth, but she was light years beyond lying to herself. “If you ever need any--”

“I know.”

“Please.” She stepped forward, bringing her hands down to his flannel shirt and fisting them in the loose material. “People say that to you all the time, I know. But I mean it, Dean. If you or Sam ever need anything, anytime, I’m there.”

His eyes softened and a gentle smile found its way to his face. “I know that, too.”

“Don’t forget about me.”

He swallowed. “I won’t. I swear it.”

“You watch out for that brother of yours.” Letting go of his shirt was one of the hardest things she ever had to do in her life, but she did it anyway.

“Sort of have to. It’s my job.” His voice wavered a bit, as did his smile. “Thank you, Annie.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me today why I do what I do.”

A tear ran down the side of her face. “So we saved each other then?”

He nodded. “I think we did.” He leaned forward and tenderly brushed his lips against hers before he turned and disappeared into the night.

Annie leaned against her front door and rubbed a finger over her lips. She didn’t care if Dean denied it or not. That boy was definitely an angel.


	3. Just A Breather

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v11/Dolimir/?action=view&current=slod4.jpg)

Dean pulled the keys from the ignition and let the Impala creep to a stop against the rotted wall of a long abandoned barn. He hazarded a peek at his brother and closed his eyes in relief when he found Sam softly snoring against the passenger side window. He absently pocketed his keys and ran a hand over his face, trying to remember the last time he felt this mentally exhausted.

He just needed a moment to think.

Ideally, he’d like a week, but he’d settle for a moment.

Just a moment.

Ever since he had awoken from his coma, life had been unfolding at a breakneck speed. He was used to always being on the go, at thinking on the fly.

But this...this was too much.

In the span of six months: he had lost his father shortly after being told that he had to save Sammy, and barring that, had to kill his little brother if he should somehow fail his mission; had discovered that his father had made a bargain with the very demon they had been hunting practically Dean’s entire life in order to release him from a coma he was never meant to recover from; almost had to shoot his brother in order to save him from a contracted a demonic virus; discovered that he and his brother were right smack in the middle of some sort of unholy war, where the other side was doing everything in its power to sway Sammy to their side; and now...now they had the FBI on their tails.

All he had wanted to do was see the Grand Canyon, get away from their lives for a little while, to enjoy themselves while they still could.

How had everything gotten so messed up?

Sammy.

He huffed once in amusement. Mr. I-Want-To-Be-Normal finally decided he wanted to meet his destiny head on, and here they were, somewhere in South Central Kansas, hiding in the remnants of a barn long past its prime.

Dean leaned his head against the steering wheel and released a breath that seemed to originate from his toes.

He couldn’t blame Sam.

He wished he could, wished there was something in him that would allow him to throw up his hands and claim he was out, wished he could lay their current predicament at his baby brother’s feet. But he couldn’t.

Maybe if he had controlled his grief better after his father died or if he had paid more attention to their jobs or...

His eyes burned and he gripped the steering wheel tightly in an effort to keep the building tears from falling.

God, he missed his dad.

All his life he had been a good soldier, doing what he was told. He could follow an order like nobody’s business. But he was never meant to be a general. A lieutenant, sure. But not the one calling the shots.

Sammy was probably better suited for taking charge, but he was so determined to look his fate squarely in the eyes that he couldn’t focus on the bigger picture. Not that he ever really could.

Dean’s mission had always been clear: watch over Sammy and to keep him safe from harm. And he had embraced that mission whole-heartedly. From carrying him through the burning house that had taken their mother, to making sure Sam had enough food and books, to keeping schoolyard bullies from picking on the perpetual new kid, to stepping between Sam and their father when the angry words between them moved them to communicate in a more physical context, he had done his job.

He’d be the first to admit that he floundered a bit once Sam went to college. It was the first time Dean had been released from his primary duties. And while it took him some time to refocus on a new agenda, he was proud of the fact he’d found his footing fairly quickly. And when everything went to hell in a hand basket, he regrouped by going back to square one and gathering Sam, ironically, carrying him once again from a burning building.

While their journey hadn’t started under the best circumstances, road tripping with Sam, completing jobs on their own terms, had contained some of the happiest moments of Dean’s life. But now, now life was conspiring to take Sam away from him just as it had taken his father, and he felt as helpless as the four year old he had once been, confused and scared.

He needed just a bit of time to gather his thoughts.

How was he expected to protect his brother when the entire universe was scheming against them?

He had always thought it’d be rather cool for them to have a reputation as the biggest bads around, to have demons quake in fear at the mere mention of the Winchester name. He had, however, wanted to fly completely under the radar on the human front, not garner the reputation of being a modern day Bonnie and Clyde. He snorted once. At least he was considered Clyde. That had to count for something, right?

Dean rubbed his forehead, trying to stave off the headache that had been dogging him for the last forty-eight hours.

At least now they had to go to ground for a while. Even Sam had to agree they needed to regroup. A few weeks should give them plenty of time to come up with another plan.

Maybe he could grow his hair out and dye it black or something. Maybe wear a pony tail. He grinned at the thought of what his father would have to say about that.

And just as sudden the grin was gone.

West Texas sounded good.

It was snowing down south, although nothing like the northeast. Maybe they could find an isolated town, take a deep breath and think, do a little research, perhaps even play a few games of pool.

Yeah, West Texas sounded like a good plan. Otherwise, they were just screwed.


	4. Enemy Mine

Back pressed against the grungy floral papered wall of the long-abandoned hotel hallway, she turned her head to face him. “There are four of them in the room.” She spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Have they--”

“No.” Her nose crinkled as she sniffed the air. “He’s bleeding, but his wounds are not life threatening.”

“Perhaps not, but for every bruise--”

“Agreed.”

He looked startled, but regained his composure quickly. “Then let’s do this.”

She nodded. “I’ll take the ones farthest away. Do what you must to protect him.”

“Always,” he vowed.

She glanced toward the door, but looked back, curious, when she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“Why?”

“Because change comes slowly and we must protect those brave enough to affect it.”

He raised one eyebrow, even as he hefted his katana to his shoulder.

“I also owe him, as I owe you.”

“Sweetheart, I’ll be in your debt if we get him out of there in one piece.”

“Do not make promises you don’t intend to honor, Dean Winchester,” she chided, though unkindly.

His gaze sought hers and held it. “I never make promises I don’t intend to honor.”

She regarded him seriously for a moment, then nodded, accepting his words and their underlying promise. “You, Winchester men, are different from the other hunters I have known.”

“We’re two of a kind, baby. Two of a kind.”

“Lenore,” she said solemnly.

He nodded once. “Lenore.”

“Not quite friends,” she said, almost wistfully.

“Not quite,” he admitted, then added in a softer voice, “Enemy, mine.”

“I can live with that.”

“So can I. On three. One. Two. Three!”


	5. Conversations On The Road

“Angelina Jolie.”

“Dude, that goes without saying.”

“I’d marry Jennifer Garner and cliff Carmen Electra.”

“Poor, poor Carmen.”

“What? You’re not saying you’d marry Carmen and cliff Jennifer, are you?”

“No, way. It’s just sometimes a man’s got to make some hard choices.”

“I hear ya. Okay, your turn.”

“Hit me. Ow! Damn it, I meant --. Oh, don’t even try the puppy eyes with me, Sammy. I taught you that trick. And quit snickering! It’s a damn good thing I’m driving.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Rest stops are a bitch, you know.”

“I got it. Halle Berry. Jennifer Lopez. Brittany Spears.”

“Dude, that’s too easy.”

“Oh?”

“Cliff Spears. Shag Lopez. Marry Berry.”

“Why not marry Lopez and shag Berry?”

“Because Lopez is too high maintenance.”

“Yeah, but Berry tried to burn a house down once.”

“I know. I like that in a woman.”

“You have some serious issues, bro.”

“Yeah, whatever. Okay, my turn.”


	6. A Bad Thing

Dear Lord.

I may have done a bad thing.

I…I…it doesn’t make any sense.

One minute, I’m walking to the store, furious with Danny for not fixing the sink. Again. And the next…

There was…black smoke. Coming at me. Almost like it was specifically looking for me.

That doesn’t make any sense.

One minute I’m on the verge of tears, and the next I feel a rage, an overpowering world destroying rage. And it had nothing to do with Danny’s laziness. Danny was so far beneath me at that moment, he might as well have been a bug. I just remember that my anger made me feel powerful. So freaking powerful. Like I could make one of the Almighty’s angels tremble in fear before me if I so chose.

And then, I woke up. At the Sheriff’s office. Like I had been on a three day bender. Phil told me I could go home and Nancy was just as sweet as she could be, but I can’t help but feel like I’d done something horribly wrong. Especially with the way the Phil’s two consultants were watching at me. Oh, they were nice and everything. It’s just they’d looked at me like my head might suddenly start spinning and pea soup could start flying any moment.

When I got home, Danny still hadn’t fixed the sink. He was snoring in his chair, like he hadn’t a care in the world. Normally, I’d have gotten him up and into bed, but I left him there. I just couldn’t deal with him right then.

Hell, I couldn’t stop trembling. I spent half the night throwing up everything I’d eaten for the last week.

And this morning, just when I started to feel human again, I turned on the news.

Dear God, the station burned to the ground. Nancy, Phil, Melvin, the consultants, everyone was dead.

Did I do that?

Was I responsible?

Why do I feel responsible?

It doesn’t make any sense.

I mean, I’m on the town council, for Christ’s sake.

If someone was going to start throwing out names of people who might be a local terrorist, I guarantee that Jenna Rubner is not going to be on the list, let alone be the first name on the page.

But yet I can’t shake this feeling, like I’m somehow responsible.

Oh, Lord, I think I may have done a bad thing.


	7. Faith

“Leyla.”

While you’re ashamed to admit it, a small part of you wants to keep going, wants to go through the door and never look back, but that’s not who you are, not the way you were raised. And even if you had been, you doubt you were ever strong enough to ignore someone in such pain.

Now that your clean exit is a thing of the past, you turn around to face him. You’re surprised by the pain in his eyes and actually take a small step toward him to soothe his agony, but stop yourself, knowing that he is a proud man and probably wouldn’t appreciate such a gesture.

You tilt your head to let him know he has your full attention and he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. His frustration is nearly palatable. You know whatever he wants to say isn’t easy for him, so you sit on the end of his bed again, silently letting him know he can take as much time as he needs to find the right words.

He gives you a little nod of appreciation, and clenches his fists as if steeling himself for an unpleasant task, making you curious and perhaps a little frightened.

Finally, he kneels in front of you; his quiet intimacy startling you, but before you can say anything he takes your left hand in his, even as his pale green eyes seek yours.

“Faith is believing when there is no physical evidence to support what you believe. Right?”

You nod, wondering where he’s going with his line of questioning, even as you give in to your need to gently soothe the stress lines from his forehead. For a moment, he indulges himself and leans into your touch. You're surprised to find him trembling ever so slightly. While Reverend LaGrange healed him, it’s obvious he hasn’t fully recovered from his experience and you worry that he may be taxing what little physical reserves he has left. You open your mouth to ask him to sit beside you, but he’s already pulling back.

“I’m...I’m asking you to have a little faith in me. Just for a moment.” His eyes tell you he doesn’t expect you to grant him this clemency, but he’s hoping you will.

“Okay.”

You can see the gratitude shine from his face and you're pleased that you’re able to lighten his burden if only for a few moments.

“When...when I was healed...” The words break raw in his throat and you’re surprised that they aren’t more...joyous. That’s not the right word, and you know it, but you never dreamed that speaking about his healing could cause him such grief.

You nod for him to continue but he is struggling, whether with his emotions or the right words you aren’t sure.

“When you were healed,” you prompt softly. Your rest your right hand in his hair, gently rubbing your thumb over his forehead again.

“Leyla, SueAnn had bound a reaper.” His words are spoken quickly and it takes you a moment to decipher what he’s just told you.

“A reaper?”

He nods and you nod back at him, silently asking him to continue. He shifts nervously, but his eyes never leave your face. “When Roy had cancer, she was so desperate to keep him from dying that she found a way to prevent death from taking him.”

You look into his eyes for some sign of deceit, something to tell you that he is playing you, but you find no such emotion. And while you may live in Nowheresville, Nebraska, you’re a smart cookie and you find your stomach churning in fear over what he’s going to tell you next.

“How?” You’re not sure if you actually speak the word or if he simply reads your lips, but he nods again, thankful that you’re giving him a chance, that you’re really hearing what he’s saying.

“She bound it with a spell.”

“Okay.” You know your confusion is coloring the simple word, but he doesn’t look discouraged.

“She couldn’t let it go because...”

“It would go after Roy.” His shoulders sag in relief that you’re keeping up with him. And suddenly, things click. You know you’re still missing huge pieces of the puzzle, but you feel like you at least have the outer ring put together. “She was using this...this reaper to help Roy heal people.”

He nods again, but there is no joy in his eyes over your understanding.

“What?” You wait for the other shoe to drop.

“She...” He stops, as if suddenly his tongue is too thick use. You slide your hand down to his cheek, cupping his face, lending him your strength. He searches your face, looking for something to tell him it’s okay to proceed and you put all the compassion you can muster into your eyes.

“For every person Roy healed, someone else died,” he says so quietly that you think at first you must have imagined the words.

Your heart breaks as his agony washes over you, but even as it does you see things with a new clarity.

“So if Roy had healed me...”

“Someone else would have died of a brain tumor.”

The horror of his words pierces you and your hand flutters from his face to cover your own heart. The mere thought that someone would have... It’s almost too much too bear. To think that someone else could have...

Your eyes find his again and you are shocked to find them filled with unshed tears, and you realize he was not spared the burden you could have been carrying.

“Oh, Dean.” You remove your hand from his, then wrap both of your arms around his head, gently holding him to your chest. He holds himself stiffly against you and just when you start wondering if you've overstepped some unseen boundry, you hear him release a pain-filled gasp, as if he could no longer keep his grief inside. His arms move hesitantly around your waist and you squeeze him with all your strength, silently letting him know that you are strong enough to weather this truth with him.

Unconsciously, your hand rubs up and down his back. “You didn’t know. It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

Time passes and you’re grateful his brother is savvy enough to stay out of the room, that he isn’t here to witness this broken openness, grateful that Dean trusts you with his vulnerability.

His previous behavior makes so much makes sense now and you find yourself releasing the last shards of the self-righteous anger you had been clinging to in the darkest recesses of your soul. While you know this truth won’t spare your mother, you breathe easier again.

Several minutes later he reluctantly pulls himself away from your embrace, and while the agony is still fresh on his face, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful than he is at this moment.

“I wish...”

You place your fingers over his lips and shake your head.

“I would have been willing...”

And you know. SueAnne sent the reaper after him. For you. And you know down to the very depths of your soul that he would have let it take him. For you. But what could have...Sam. And you find yourself doubly grateful to Dean’s younger brother, not only for giving you this time to clear the air, but for preventing the heaviness that would have destroyed you had you ever learned of it.

“You may have, but I never would have been.”

“But why do I...when you...”

You shush him and reach down to take his hands in yours. Looking him in the eyes, you smile, feeling happier than you have in ages. “Thank you.”

He looks confused. “For what?”

“For sharing this with me. For telling me the truth.”

He doesn’t understand your lightness of heart, you can see it in his eyes. But you can also see some of his burden lifting.

“You believe me.” His confusion is back, although it seems to be mixed with a little bit of awe as well.

“Faith, Dean.”

You laugh joyously. Your situation hasn’t changed, yet you feel better than you have in ages. And that in itself is a miracle.


	8. remnant, rainbow, effulgently

The hard rain finally eased into a soft sprinkle, resettling the leaves on the forest floor and erasing all evidence of the battle that had just taken place.

Making sure both of his boys were okay, John nodded once to let them know they had done a good job. “Let’s head back to the car.” He turned, confident they would follow.

Sam watched him leave, but made no move to follow.

“Sammy?”

Gesturing in the direction their father had disappeared, Sam turned to face his brother. “How can he just turn it on and off like that?”

“He does what needs to be done. You know that.”

“We almost died, Dean.”

“But we didn’t.”

“We were elbow deep in evil.”

“Is this your way of saying you want a hug?”

“Fuck you.” Dean moved to his side and Sam braced himself for a slug to the arm, but it never happened.

“What we do is important, Sammy.”

“I know, but I want to live to see sixteen.”

“You will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Dean pointed to the sky where the in the first rays of dawn. “Because light is stronger than darkness. Because white hats always beat black hats and the Alliance will always beat the Empire.”

“You’re such a geek.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“That’s so lame.”

“Yeah, well I’m not the one standing around in muddy clothes whining about evil.”

Sam laughed despite himself and casually shoved his brother as they headed down the forest path after their father.


	9. indescribable, decadence, exsanguinations

“There’s such an indescribable decadence to exsanguinations.” The vampire purred as he circled around the tiny sphere of light, which seemed almost drawn onto the pavement, as if highlighting his evening meal. The two boys were standing back to back to each other. He could smell the fear on the oldest boy, knew that the boy understood who and what he was, but more importantly understood that the light held absolutely no protection – it was simply less frightening than the pitch darkness that surrounded them. But the vampire was impressed by how the boy managed to keep his brother behind him. No matter how the vampire angled, he couldn’t see the younger boy’s face.

“Dude, he’s twelve. He has no idea what you just said.”

“Yeah, I…ow.”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“Such innocence,” the vampire cooed.

“Such bullshit.”

The vampire laughed at the boy’s bravado, but was curious when the boy completely relaxed his stance.

“What--”

“We have a family tradition.” The boy smiled.

“Which is?”

“Whenever we’re invited to dinner, we always make sure to introduce our friends to our father.”

The glib reply died on his lips as he felt wood slowly penetrate his skin.

“Dad, meet--”


	10. mensch, incandescent, loneliness

“For a gentile, you’re certainly a mensch.”

Sam nodded solemnly, trying very hard to ignore his brother. “Thank you, Mrs. Abrams.”

“Are you sure you’re not goy? Not someone back a couple of generations. A zaydeh or an uncle or something?”

“No, ma’am.”

Dean’s shit eating grin was practically incandescent and Sam knew he wouldn’t be hearing the last of this any time soon.

“My granddaughter’s about your age.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Of course, sixteen is too young to even contemplate such a union.”

“Excuse me?”

“No. No. It would never work.” Mrs. Abrams shook her head sadly and gave a little sigh. “Knowing that I’m not meshugge will have to be enough.” She gave him a speculative look. “I don’t suppose you live in the neighborhood?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Loneliness can kill you, you know?”

“I know, ma’am. But there is nothing preventing you from going down to the community center and getting to know people.”

Mrs. Abrams patted his cheek. “Such a good boy.”

“It would make me happy knowing you weren’t isolating yourself again.”

“Then consider it done.”

Walking down the steps of apartment building, Sam looked at his brother. “Don’t even start.”

Sam tried not to groan as his brother smiled brilliantly at him.

“Me? I’m not saying a word, bubby.”


	11. chinchilla, pistachios, foundling

**Prompts** : _chinchilla, pistachios, foundling_

“Dude, you can’t feed a chinchilla pistachios?”

Ten-year-old Sam guiltily slipped the handful of nuts back into his pocket as he stepped away from the cage. He looked down the aisle to make sure they were alone, then pasted on his most innocent look. “Why not?”

“Don’t try that with me, Sammy. I taught you that look.”

Sam snickered. Poking his finger through the cage, he scratched the lethargic rodent. “So, why not?”

“Salt. You don’t want the little guy to shrivel up into nothingness, do you?”

“He wouldn’t.”

“He might.”

“You’re so full of...”

“Ah. Ah. Ah.”

“Some day I’m going to know more than you.”

“It’ll never happen, foundling.”

“Don’t call me that.” Even as he said the words, he knew Dean would take them as a challenge. He tried to dodge the hands coming for him, but was caught by the neck. Dean gave him a noogie that stung, but didn’t really hurt, making Sam laugh and growl at the same time. When he finally managed to break free, he looked longingly back at the chinchilla, hoping beyond hope that Dean could figure out a way to make it happen.

“How about an ice cream cone?” Dean asked, his voice soft. Sam knew they were moving soon and knew what that meant. The fact Dean was trying to distract him meant there was absolutely no way to pull a con on their dad.

Resigned, he nodded. “Yeah. Sure. With sprinkles?”

“You got it, kiddo.”


	12. Normal

When Sam was sixteen, he constantly talked about wanting to be normal, to fit in with mainstream society by living in the same house for more than a few months, to have neighbors invite them over for a barbecue and maybe let their kids hang out with them.

If he was honest with himself, Dean could admit on some level that sounded nice.

But on crisp sunny days when red-tailed hawks played in the air currents and a herd of deer grazed beside the Impala because he hadn’t moved a muscle in the last fifteen minutes, Dean thought normal was pretty overrated.


	13. First Dance

Dean couldn’t think of anything more boring than sitting in a streamer-filled gym for two hours twiddling his thumbs; and yet, despite his protests of not having a date, his father had not only made him attend but dress up as well, which still confused him. His dad had never given his schooling any serious attention, let alone extra-curricular activities, so Dean was baffled as to why he had gotten so quiet when Dean mockingly mentioned the upcoming seventh grade dance.

Hell, the only dances he knew were the waltz and the two-step and that was only because Pastor Jim insisted he know where to put his hands on a woman should the opportunity every present itself.

“May I have this dance?”

Dean looked up into the shy green eyes of the redheaded girl before him, and abruptly understood the charm of school mixers.


	14. First Scar

Every boy grows up with his share of scars, usually stemming from falling or jumping off things they shouldn’t be on or cutting themselves on goofy things. Sam got his first scar by having a poltergeist bounce him down a flight of stairs and into an old oak sideboard, which technically fell under falling off things, but wasn’t close enough to satisfy him. Telling friends that he got the scar just under his hairline from an angry dead guy who hated children was going to get him labeled as a freak, no two ways about it. Sometimes life just sucked.


	15. Sanctified

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in 2006 before angels were a part of the show.

According to folklore, only one pure of body and spirit could touch a unicorn. And that was how Dean viewed most pure things in the world – as untouchable. Through the course of hunting evil, he knew he’d been tainted by it, anointed in it. It was impossible to remain pure of spirit when one was elbow deep in salt, blood and ichor, especially when he had found the remains of tormented children who had simply played in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Normal, the life Sam was so desperate to live, wasn’t even a fantasy in Dean’s world. He prided himself on being a realist and he knew he’d never fit in with good society, so there was no use pretending. Hunters lived in darkness, and that suited Dean just fine.

So it came as a bit of a surprise to find himself standing in the presence of something so pure that it made his heart ache.

One moment he had been racing down the back alleyways of Chicago in pursuit of a possessed man responsible for breaking tiny blonde-headed children, and the next he found himself turning a corner and coming face-to-face with the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen – an angel.

The possessed man lay at the angel’s feet, totally limp.

Shame filled Dean, as if his mere presence would somehow sully the angelic vision before him. He took a step back, but stopped when the angel frowned. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but no words were formed.

The angel stepped forward and wrapped its enormous wings around him, reminding him of a time when he felt safe in his mother’s arms, and filling him with such a radiant contentment that he had the overwhelming urge to throw back his head and laugh joyously.

“Blessed be, warrior servant.” Although Dean clearly heard the words, the angel’s lips never moved. “You are sanctified in Him who makes all things possible. Continue your quest, my child, and know that you are not forgotten in the darkness.”

And then it was gone.

Dean blinked thinking he should feel cold, but instead he felt whole in a way he had never felt before. The man before him moaned, making Dean stumble backward, instinctively knowing the demon was gone. Not knowing what else to do, he shrank back into the shadows, which seemed a lot less dark than they had mere moments before.


	16. Attaining Normalcy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Eighth Horizon's Salvation universe.

Even in sleep, Sam continued to exude a sense of awed astonishment, as if he still couldn’t wrap his head around the gift his wife had bestowed upon him earlier in the day. His arms gently cocooned Sarah and held her tenderly to his chest.

Looking down at the couple, Dean’s chest swelled with an almost fatherly pride. They had done it. They had actually achieved normal. A part of him wanted to sing praises to a god he wasn’t even sure existed, while another part of him wanted to flip off the devil. But not wanting to draw the attention of either, he contented himself by picking up the wrapped bundle in the bassinet beside the hospital maternity bed.

While little Allison belonged to his boy and his boy’s girl, Dean knew his life was about to change yet again. While smaller than the average house pet, her mere presence gave him hope, made him believe in possibilities. He ran his finger ever-so-gently down her arm and into the palm of her hand, smiling when her fingers wrapped around his finger, knowing that she would carelessly command his soul, knowing he would never be able to deny her anything, just as he’d never been able to truly deny her father anything.

Rarely had he ever seen such perfection. He swallowed hard as something welled up within him, frightening him a little. This emotion was too new, perhaps even too fragile to be examined, but he knew right then that he would defy every power in the universe to keep her safe.

She gurgled reassuringly at him and he found himself releasing the tension he had felt growing in his shoulders.

Perhaps normal was attainable after all, even for sinners like him.


	17. What Price Peace

While Dean wanted nothing more than to sleep for a month, elation and weariness jockeyed for dominance in his mind, preventing him from closing his eyes. He and Sam had finally destroyed *the* demon. But while it no longer held any importance in their lives, it had managed to loose its army upon the world, thus guaranteeing the Winchesters wouldn’t know peace anytime in the near future.

Not that Dean would know what to do with peace if he should ever stumble upon it.

A chill ran down Dean’s spine, quieting all previous thoughts.

Peace.

What if Sam had been at peace? What if, like Buffy, Dean had been pulled him from heaven?

Had he condemned his brother to suffering here on Earth? Had he given the dark side another chance to sink their malicious claws into him?

Dear God, what had he done?


	18. Bring It

Dean released a long held breath. Sam was alive, and the demon was dead.

Bobby and Ellen had closed the devil’s gate, and the son of a bitch that murdered their mother no longer walked on any plane of existence.

Their father had somehow managed to fight his way out of hell and was now…no longer in hell, and the dark creature who’d been jonesing for Sam was gone for ever.

Sure an army had been unleashed, which just meant he’d be busy for the next three hundred and fifty-three days, but, hot dam, that yellow-eyed bastard was finally dead.


	19. Vacation Spots

So, you’ve killed the demon that’s been tormenting your family for over two decades, but manage to unleash an army of darkness. Somehow saying you’re going to Disneyland doesn’t seem like an appropriate response when asked what you plan on doing next. Dean snorted in amusement, knowing he could come up with a fairly decent argument for the spinning teacups being the work of Satan.

No, there weren’t going to be any vacations in their immediate future, although Dean wondered if there was any possibility of getting Sammy to stop by the Grand Canyon before the end of the year.


	20. The Perfect Storm

The night sky flashed with lightning as the wind whipped around him, plastering his clothes against his body. His face stung in a hundred different places as his hair flailed around his head. Thunder boomed again and again and he roared back at the screaming heavens.

The demon might be dead, but the power it bestowed upon him still existed. Power didn’t necessarily mean evil, and if he was going to fight for Dean’s soul, he was going to have to flip a few switches.

If hell wanted his brother, it was going to have to go through him first.


	21. In the Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read a lot of stories about Dean being cut off emotionally, but if you watch the first season you can see Dean trying to talk to Sam. It's only after their father's death that Dean closes up.

“Do you like me?”

The soft-spoken question startled Sam out of his reverie. For a second he focused on the darkness beyond the car window, then turned to face his brother, who was very deliberately keeping his eyes on the road before them. “What?”

Dean swallowed once, like he already regretted asking the question. “Do you like me?”

Sam shook his head once as if trying to clear his ears. “What the fuck, Dean?”

“It’s not a hard question, Sammy. In fact, it can be answered yes or no.”

“What are you trying to get at?”

“I’m not trying to get at anything. I’m just curious.”

Sam frowned. “You’re my brother. Of course, I like you.”

“And if I wasn’t?”

“Wasn’t what?”

“Your brother.”

Sam turned in the seat so he could look directly at Dean’s profile. “I--”

“Do we have anything in common?”

“You mean other than hunting?”

Dean huffed quietly. “Yeah, other than that.”

Sam hesitated for a moment, feeling like he’d been caught flat-footed.

“We don’t…appreciate the same type of music.”

“It’s not like I hate mullet rock, it’s--”

“Do you know anything about car repair? Beyond basic maintenance?”

Sam resisted the urge to squirm. “Not really.”

“Do you enjoy playing pool?”

“I don’t mind pool.”

“As long as we aren’t hustling.”

“True.”

“Same goes with darts?”

“Yes.”

Dean fell silent and Sam felt like he was missing something important. Dean was trying to tell him something, but Sam wasn’t quite sure what. Afraid the moment might pass, he decided to take matters in his own hands. “Dean--”

“When you were little, you used to laugh at my jokes.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Now, they just irritate you.”

Sam repressed a sigh. Dean’s jokes tended to border on the juvenile, but then again so did a lot of his friends in college. “Well, that’s not quite--”

“Yeah, it is, but it’s okay.”

Dean fell silent again and Sam felt like he had somehow just failed some sort of test with his brother. “Dean, what’s going on?”

“I’m parched. Want to stop somewhere for a beer?”

Sam knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, if they stopped, he’d never get another chance to figure out what his brother was attempting to tell him. “No. Please, Dean, talk to me.”

Dean glanced at him quickly, then looked toward the road again. Sam could tell he was mentally debating the wisdom of continuing. Just as Sam was about to reach out to touch his brother’s shoulder, Dean spoke again. “You’re still mad at me. I get that.”

“Mad?” Sam blinked in surprise, then leaned back against the passenger side door. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because I stayed with Dad, because I took you away from Stanford, because I didn’t change while you were gone.”

Sam felt the air leave his lungs in shock. “Dean.”

But Dean continued on as if he hadn’t paused. “And now you’re wanted by the F.B.I. and even if I could let you go, you can never go back to your old life.”

“Dean--”

“I know it’s too little, too late, and that it doesn’t really mean anything now, but I am sorry. Truly.”

“I’m…I’ve never asked you to apologize. I mean, I never wanted--”

“Yeah, you did.” Dean shrugged. “It’s okay. I just wanted you to know I understand now.”

“Dean…no.” Bewildered, Sam rubbed his forehead. True, there was a time when he was angry with his brother and for the exact reasons he named, but that had been over a year ago. They’d been through so much since then, and Sam had long since let go of his anger. He wondered if his brother’s apology had anything to do with his time under the djinn’s powers. Dean had told them that they hadn’t gotten along. Was that memory causing Dean to reevaluate their relationship? “Do you remember when I was ten and wanted to be a vet?”

Dean frowned. “Yeah.”

“And you convinced the veterinarian in Langston to let me work after school for two weeks.”

Sam could see Dean’s grin in the dashboard light. “Working with animals lost its appeal when you realized you had to cut them open in order to see what made them tick.”

“It seemed counterproductive.” Dean gave him a curious glance. “Or how about when I wanted to be a fireman and you took me to a station for a tour.”

Dean nodded his head and grinned. “That was fun.”

“I never knew you wanted to be a firefighter too.”

“Probably had something to do with my childhood.”

“Yeah, probably.” They shared a small grin. “You made me the center of your world. Sometimes at the expense of your own dreams.”

Dean remained silent.

“I was mad at you when I left for college.”

“I know.”

“I wanted you to come with me.”

“I couldn’t leave him in the darkness by himself,” Dean said softly.

“And yet, he left you.”

“Yeah, wasn’t that a kick in the pants?”

“What?”

“What?”

“You’re mad at him.”

Dean huffed again. “Correction. Was mad.”

“But…but you never said anything.”

“So? What good would it have done?”

“But…but--”

“I just needed to know he was safe.”

Understanding dawned on Sam. “That’s why you came and got me.”

“Pardon?”

“Not because you needed me, but to make sure I was safe.”

“Bang up job I’m doing so far, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re not doing that bad.”

They drove in silence for several minutes, before Dean finally spoke again. “I would have done anything, given anything, to have been able to save Jessica for you.”

Sam swallowed hard. “I know.”

“I didn’t realize it would go after her.”

Rubbing his face again, Sam looked at his brother. “We had no idea what we were up against then.”

“I’m not sure we have any idea now.”

Sam snorted once. “True, but we are learning more and more each day.”

Dean nodded. Eyes still on the highway, he spoke again, softly. “I’m sorry to have dragged you back into this life.”

Knowing his next words were important, Sam paused for a moment. “I didn’t want to return to hunting, but looking back I can honestly say it’s exactly what I needed, even if I didn’t realize it in the beginning.”

“Sam--”

“The demon was going to come after me, no matter where I was, Dean. We both know that now.”

“So why are you still mad?”

Sam started slightly. Was he still mad? “I’m not mad. I’m frustrated.”

“With me.” Not a question, but a statement.

And Dean had a point. If he was honest with himself, he could admit he was frustrated with his brother a bit. “And with myself as well.”

“Oh-kay.”

“Look, I was mad at the world after Jessica’s death. And there you were happy to have me back, wanting to tuck me under your wing again.”

Dean sighed softly. “Not realizing you had grown up.”

“Exactly.”

“But, man, I gotta give you points. You kept trying and trying to reach out to me. But then Dad died and you stopped…just stopped. And I realized I wanted, even needed, you to keep trying.”

“Throwing yourself against a brick wall really isn’t that fun, Sam.”

Sam nodded. “It’s just after Dad died, I found myself wanting to be tucked under again, if just for a little while.”

Dean’s chin dropped to his chest for a moment, but it came up immediately and focused on the road. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not fair to you to expect you to fix all my problems when times get tough.”

“That’s what big brothers are for, Sammy.”

“Only the best ones.” Sam grinned affectionately at Dean. “So what are we going to do now?”

“What do you want to do?”

Sam considered the question for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe we could…walk side by side for a bit.”

Dean glanced over at him and smiled, a true smile that warmed Sam. “I can live with that. As long as we don’t have to hug.”

“But Deeeeeeeean.” Sam laughed as Dean pretended to grimace. “So now what?” he asked quietly.

“Now, I want some pie.”

“But we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“So, I’m hungry. There’s gotta be pie around here somewhere.”

“Does soul searching usually give you the munchies?”

“You have no idea.”

“I’ll tell you what. You find us a diner and I’ll run in and get us dinner.”

“Yeah, you will, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

They both grinned as a sign flickered in the distance.


	22. Home

Growing up, Sam had always basically thought of the Impala as home, but the months after Dean had died in Brower County and the months that his brother had been in hell had taught Sam that belief wasn’t necessarily true in the strictest sense of the word. Oh, he had still kept her and had slept in her more often than he had rented a hotel room, but it wasn’t the car that made him feel like belonged somewhere.

It was Dean.

Dean. His loud, brash brother, who always wanted a home, never realizing that he had already created one.


	23. Promises

As Mary flew up the steps, Dean Van Halen’s warning from ten years earlier came screaming up through her memory, warning her to stay still, to go back to John’s side.

But she couldn’t.

After the demon had left her father’s body and John had sucked in his first breath of cold autumn air, Mary had promised herself that she’d never let any harm come to her family ever again.

If it took her death to keep her family safe, so be it. There was no way she was going to allow them to have anything to do with the supernatural.


	24. Before It Had A Name

In the beginning, there was a sense of belonging, of comforting warmth and oneness. There was a rhythm, a pace that was everything, and nothing, but was the very essence of being.

Then the universe shifted and contracted, bringing confusion and panic. Thrust from comfort, light and cold became startling, unwelcomed concepts.

Being separated and alone brought awareness of self. Of want and need. Of displeasure and rebellion. And of longing.

Sound, familiar in cadence, yet unseemingly harsh surrounded him, for that was who he was now.

He.

Me.

I.

And while separated from the universe it was not forever out of reach, thus making it even more precious. More beloved.

Time became a gradual impression, objectionable, but undefeatable, so generally ignored.

Familiarity blossomed with the beloved, and he enjoyed her soothing, loving hands and gentle lips. Being with Her meant being bathed in belonging and he did all he could to remain close.

As time passed, others became familiar and he was delighted, simply by their presence.

Certain noises were repeated over and over again and He/Me became Sammy. He tried to emulate their noise, but his attempts were met with encouraging mirth, which annoyed him, but as long as they continued to attend him when he called he remained content.

Fear was a lesson that was swift and brutal. It was coldness that burned and seeped into every pore of his being. It was heat as his world was thrown off kilter. It was separation from all he knew and desired.

Time steadied itself, but no matter how much he expressed his annoyance or voiced his rebellion, She did not return to him.

Her void was immense and he was lost, without direction.

In time, the beloved faded into memory and he focused on the others. One made him feel protected, with his strong hands and sad voice, but did not fill the void.

The other was silent, but had the same soothing hands and gentle lips and attended to his needs although not with the same grace the beloved had.

A gradual awareness trickled into being, of being out of synch with the surrounding world, of not belonging. Uncertainty threatened to overwhelm him, but whenever he became despondent or unsure, one entity stepped forward and wrapped him in love, in home.

Father. Mother. Brother. Friend. The universe reforged.

And the form took on a name.

Dean.


	25. A Different Path

Home.

Sam took a deep breath and held it for a moment as contentment flowed through his incredibly tired body.

Normal.

He always dreamed about being normal but never quite believed he’d be able achieve it. But he had -- with Jess.

He tiredly eyed the clock. Eleven fifty. The interview was at eight, so technically he could get at least five hours of sleep before he had to hit the ground running again. He snorted with amusement -- like sleep was even a remote possibility.

Using his shoulders, he pushed off the door intent on finding Jess, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling her hair. As he walked past the kitchen table, a plate of giant cookies caught his attention, along with a note. Missed you. Love you.

Warmth flowed through him as he promised himself that no matter how he did in the interview he’d stop at Hardin’s and buy the rings he’d had his eye on for the last couple of weeks. He’d be damned to eternal hell before he let Jess escape him. He cackled softly to himself as he wondered what her reaction to that thought would be.

Biting into a cookie, he found himself unconsciously looking back at the door, a sense of longing filling him, confusing him. He shook his head. He didn’t miss the run-ins with the police or the constant adrenaline bursts. He didn’t miss the credit card fraud or ghosts who somehow always knew how to inflict the most pain. He sure as hell didn’t miss Dean’s tape collection or the cramped front seat of the Impala.

But he could admit that he missed Dean. It wasn’t until his brother showed up uninvited two nights ago that he realized just how much. The camaraderie, the way Dean always had his back, made him feel whole in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Sam felt a bit of shame that he had asked Dean to stay out of his life in his sophomore year after the incident involving his favorite professor’s son, but at the time all he could think about was losing everything he had worked so hard to obtain. Luckily, the boy had been too wasted and didn’t remember a thing and there hadn’t been any incriminating evidence to implicating either of them.

He was surprised Dean had stayed away so long, but then again Sam had been pretty vicious in his demand. But despite the silence of the last two years, he was surprised by how easily he had slipped back into the hunting life.

Trudging down the hallway, he decided that after the interview he’d call Dean and check on him. He’d use the excuse of seeing if Dean had found any clue as to their father’s whereabouts in Colorado. Dean would probably see through it, but it would give Sam an opportunity to issue and open-ended dinner invitation.

He took another bite of the cookie as he stepped into the bedroom. The bed was made, but the shower was running. Without thought, he flopped back onto the bed and tried to ignore his muscles as they complained loudly about the strenuous activity of the last two days. He contemplated slipping into the shower with Jess, but he’d scared the hell out of her the last time he pulled that stunt on her. Of course, it had lead to a round of fairly athletic sex afterwards. What the hell? He was willing to take his chances.

With a plan in mind, he opened his eyes and blinked several times in confusion.

What was Jess doing on the ceiling?

Without thought he launched himself off the bed, wrapping his forearms around her back and waist, but her body didn’t move.

“Hold on, baby!” But even as he spoke the words, a hole began to open behind her and he could feel a wind sucking her further away from him. “No!” he shouted over the cacophony of sounds emerging from the hole. He tightened his grip, and felt his feet leave the ground. Desperately, he hooked a foot under his bed.

“Sam?” A confused shout from the living room caught his attention.

“Dean!”

Seconds later, Dean had his arms around his waist, anchoring him to the floor.

“Help me!”

Sam saw the determined look fill brother’s face and he almost wept with relief. Once Dean put his mind to something, he rarely failed.

“Sam?” Jessica blinked, her voice sounding raw and broken, barely audible over the scream of the wind.

“We gotcha, baby. I’m not letting you go.”

“What’s happening?” The terror in her voice ripped through him.

But before he could answer, her legs jerked backward as if something from the abyss was using her as a rope in a tug of war game. He felt his grip start to slip and horror like he had never known filled him at the thought of losing her. “Dean!”

His brother’s response was instantaneous. He watched Dean jumped upward and wrap both of his arms around Jess’ legs, allowing Sam to readjust his grip. But the sudden shift in weight caused Dean to crash to his knees, although his hold on Jess still intact. Without an anchor, Sam found himself upside down and struggling not to be sucked through the ceiling.

“Sam!” Jess and Dean screamed as one.

As a frost of darkness enveloped him, Sam realized his father had been right. He couldn’t escape who he was. Looking down into the faces of the two people he loved most in the world, he felt a strange sense of calm come over him.

“Look after him, baby.” He didn’t yell and wasn’t sure if Jess heard him or not. “He’ll blame himself.”

“I don’t understand, Sam. I don’t.” Tears marred Jess’ face as she tugged with all her strength, trying to keep him with her.

“Don’t you leave me, Sammy. Don’t you dare!” Dean was flailing below him, trying to stay grounded and keep his grip on Jessica. His hand stretched upward, trying to grasp Sam’s shirt.

Looking at the clock on the stand beside the bed, he noticed the digital numbers change to eleven fifty-nine. Not this time, he resolved. Not again.

“I love you both. So much.” Sam went limp and harden his heart against Jess’ cry as she lost her grip on him. His brother’s screams were the last thing he heard as the darkness swallowed him whole.


	26. Time

People always say there aren’t enough hours in a day, and yet he’s always believed there were way too many minutes in the night. He lives entire lifetimes in the seconds it takes him to get downstairs and assess the situation, with time only speeding up once he place himself between his little brother and danger. Each moment with evil seemed like a decade, with time after the completed job lasting just as long.

He counts each long moment until the sun rises again, until he knows that evil is slinking back into the depths, rejuvenating and waiting. Always waiting.


	27. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby is lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for tesserae_.

Karen had been the love of his life, and yet he’d been forced to kill her…twice. After her first death, he told himself that all he wanted was five more minutes with her…to tell her that he loved her with every atom of his being…to beg her for forgiveness. But actually getting her back, only to lose her again was almost more than he could bear. To have her humming off-tune in his kitchen, making pies, like the past twenty-five years had never happened went beyond surreal.

The one man he had counted on more than anyone else would no longer talk to him. Of course, he wasn’t talking to Rufus either. Omaha. Rufus was always so headstrong and wanted to rush in without knowing exactly what they were rushing into. They both blamed the other for the fiasco that took Antoinette’s life, when in reality neither of them had been to blame. Or perhaps, they both were.

And to top it off, he had lost the use of his legs. Oh, he’d do it all over again in a heartbeat to save Dean, but it didn’t make life any easier. Especially when he couldn’t get upstairs anymore or take a decent shower or get out of the house.

He looked at the silver bullet between his thumb and his forefinger. It would be so easy to put it in his pistol. So easy to pull the trigger. But he had promised that fool boy that he wouldn’t.

Just who in the hell did Dean Winchester think he was anyway? Making him promise not to take the easy way out.

What did the boy know about loss? What did he…

Bobby closed his eyes and pocketed the bullet. Sighing, he reached over and grabbed his chair. No sense lying around in bed all day. The phone would be ringing soon and he needed to at least be dressed. Oh, not that he really needed to be, but it broke the days up, separating one from the other.


	28. Brain Freeze (Dean, Cas)

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“I believe this beverage is causing me pain.”

“You have been slurping it down pretty fast.”

“You told me if I got any on the seat you would saw my wings off with a plastic spoon.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So I was attempting to finish the beverage before anything unforeseen could happen.”

“I didn’t say you had to chug it and give yourself a brain freeze. I just didn’t want--”

“What’s a brain freeze?”

“It’s what you have right now.”

“Are you implying that I have frozen my vessel’s brain?”

“You didn’t really freeze Jimmy’s brain. At least I don’t think you did. But with fricken angels, who knows?”

“What do you mean?”

“Brain freeze happens when you eat or drink something cold really fast.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look, when something cold touches the roof of your mouth it causes the blood vessels to shrink. When they expand again the pain receptors in your mouth use the nerves in your face to protest.”

“How do you know that?”

“I had to look it up for Sam when we were kids. He got a brain freeze once and thought he was dying.”

“He wasn’t?”

“Of course not.”

“It feels like dying.”

“It does not. Trust me on that one.”

“So why do you drink beverages that cause you pain?”

“If you drink them slowly, they won’t cause you pain.”

“Is this like eating fugu?”

“What?”

“Like the Japanese eating poisonous blowfish?”

“No. It’s nothing like that. No one ever died from brain freeze.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Positive.”

“What are you doing, Cas?”

“Experimenting.”

“What?”

“I want to know how fast I can drink this beverage without getting a brain freeze.”

“And Sam said I was a pain.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”


End file.
